April 2020
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents
Cover: “Thunderclouds,” a photograph by The Calico
“Online Learning,” a rant by Anonymous
This Page: “Little Notes,” a photograph by Anony-
“The Competition Part 6: The Final Days,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Symmetry,” an illustration by Verovyva
Cat
mous
Page 3:
Ask Aphro & Dite
Page 13:
The Hues of Blue
Page 14:
• Dite notices there’s only one question this month • Slightly Gray wants to cure the coronavirus • Blue recalls drama from third grade
Monthly Otaku Column
• Aya talks about nature and quarantine
Page 4:
“Utopia,” a story by Vérité “April Showers,” a photograph by The Calico Cat
Page 5:
“Utopia,” continued “Horizons,” a photograph by Anonymous “Conformity,” a stroy by Alex Choi
Page 6:
“A Fever Dream,” a story by Slightly Gray “Sleepless Nights,” an illustration by DIO “Quarantined,” a story by Luna
Page 7:
“Time Spent,” a rant by Blue Serendipity “Purple Petals,” a photograph by The Cold Hearted Queen
Page 8:
“A Bird’s Nest,” a story by Anonymous “Magic!” an illustration by Cupid
Page 9:
“A Bird’s Nest,” continued “The Clockmaker,” a poem by Verovyva “What Is Darkness,” a poem by S.B. “Goggles,” an illustration by Jennifer Kaechele
Page 10:
“The Nuisance Of Keeping A Butterfly,” a story by The Wine Merchant “Fierce Fight,” an illustration by DIO
Page 11:
“The Nuisance Of Keeping A Butterfly,” continued “Snow White,” a photograph by Blue Serendipity 2
Page 12:
“The Competition Part 6: The Final Days,” continued “Fox,” an illustration by Veryovyva “The Competition Part 6: The Final Days,” continued “Coronavirus Haiku,” a poem by Anonymous “I’m Not Hungry But...” a poem by Anonymous “Apocolypse Angel,” a manga by Aya Hatashima
Page 15:
“Cyan Skies: The Council (1),” a story by Blue Serendipity “Rainy Days,” a photograph by Verovyva
Page 16:
“Cyan Skies: The Council (1),” continued “Eddison Bulb,” a photograph by The Cold Hearted Queen
Ask Aphro & Dite
Dear Aphro, What do you do when there’s only one question submitted this month? Yours, Dite Dear Dite, Well, first you look at the members of the club in disappointment. I know you guys aren’t doing anything with corona going on. Shame. Shame. A question counts as a submission. Second, you get creative. You ask a question from someone. It would be pretty lame answering your own question right? So you ask someone who has your back. With love, Aphro Dear Dite, How do I cure coronavirus? Yours, Slightly Gray Darling Gray, Well, you may not have the pharmaceutical background to understand what a vaccine is nor the chemistry background to read the label of one properly, but I assure you that with enough effort miracles happen. For example, with the attention of hundreds of thousands of peasants like you, the small business fund got 10 million more dollars from Ruth’s Chris steak house. Curing coronavirus will not be that easy. Our petition will need at least 1000000 signatures. We can cure it… together. With love, Dite
The Hues of Blue
Hey everyone, this month I decided to tell you all another story that took place in third grade. In the first MNW issue of the year, I told you all about the cult I started. Well, after the fall of my cult, life returned back to normal for a few weeks. Everyone went back to their usual recess activities. My two best friends and I went back to messing around on the playground equipment and playing tag on the large field. One day, one of them declared herself my best friend. My other friend wasn’t happy with that and said that she was my best friend. When I said they were both my best friends, I was met with an outraged you can’t have TWO best friends! From then on, the two waged war on each other and attempted to persuade me into declaring one of them the best friend through gifts and favors. I didn’t get what was so bad about having two best friends and I really didn’t want to have to pick one over the other. Eventually, their argument reached a climax and they began yelling at each other in the gym one day. They both began to cry and ran to two opposite sides of the gym which then forced me to pick one of them to go and comfort. Before I was able to choose, the principal was called down to the gym and took me out to the hall. There, the principal asked me to tell her what had happened. When I got to the part where I was asked to declare a best friend, she frowned and interrupted me. No, we don’t have best friends here, she said. Everyone here is your friend, but you’re not allowed to call someone your best friend. If you do then everyone has to be your best friend too. I was absolutely bewildered by this. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to have two best friends, then I was told I had to have one best friend, and then I was told I wasn’t allowed to have any best friends. And so it was settled. For two years neither of my best friends were my best friends until we all realized my principal was wrong. You can have as many best friends as you want.
issuu.com/midnightwriters wchs.midnightwriters@gmail.com
Monthly Otaku Column
It is now a month of quarantine. I am having emotional rollercoasters, one time feeling really excited and happy about getting to do whatever I like, and one time feeling really awful for not being productive. Online lessons are more stressful than I imagined. But I am quite enjoying the weather outside and taking a walk a few times a week. As you see in this month’s manga, there’s a lot of nature. And it is all referenced from the places near my house. I’ve recently started to take myself an adventure around my neighborhood, going to places I’ve never walked before alone. I never noticed that there’s a trek nearby with very beautiful rivers and landscapes! In terms of my drawing, I used Tezuka Osamu’s style of framing in “Fire Bird” (the two boxes on the right where the main character goes from one place to another). I also noticed this month (after reading over my favorite manga for the thousandth time and binge watching the 1st gundam episodes,) that my art style somewhat looks OLD. This is because of my preferences… you see, ever since I read “Rose of Versailles” in middle school, I filled my bookshelf with 60s~80s manga. My art style is not similar to the manga styles you see on anime and manga these days. Ughhhhh I really want my style to be more vibrant and dynamic!!! Anyways, I am really hoping that the whole situation will ease as soon as possible and in the meantime, I will try to experiment my art styles a bit. Stay healthy!
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Blue Serendipity, Aya Hatashima, The Calico Cat, Calliope, DIO, The Midnight Raven, and S.B. 3
Utopia
By Vérité There’s a breeze, filtering gently through the leaves. They sway back and forth as if hypnotized, with their yellows and reds blending together in a cacophony of color. Perched under the leaves, leaning against a tree trunk, two figures sit. “Lovely, isn’t it?” Annabelle says, cocking a head to the side as she takes in the scene. Thea responds with a murmured “yes,” staring off into the distance with a glazed look into her eyes. Annabelle turns. Takes in her friend’s face. “You don’t seem happy. You should be happy. We built this all, you know. We built it so it would be perfect.” She hesitates and looks at her more closely. “Isn’t it perfect?” Then, dropping her voice to a murmur. “Isn’t it better to have me back?” “I. . .of course.” Thea says, snapping back to the present. And with a note of confusion, she adds, “Have you back? But you’ve always been here. Haven’t you?” “Of course I have, silly.” Annabelle says hurriedly. “I’ve never left.”
Thea shakes her head and turns away. Where had those thoughts come from? “Thea, Thea,” Annabelle says, a note of panic in her voice. “You missed me, right? You’d never want to leave me. You’d never want to leave this perfect place. Would you?” “Annabelle. . .” Thea trails off uncertainly. “Doesn’t something about this feel off to you?” Annabelle regards her with puzzlement. Thea looks back to the town, with its perfect symmetrical shapes and perfectly polite, smiling inhabitants. She looks down at the hill they’re sitting on, where every blade of grass is as green as it would be in springtime. And she looks back at the leaves, rustling in the wind--there are yellows and reds, but not a single one is brown. Something about this place feels more like a prison than a paradise. Something feels. . . sinister. And that feeling multiplies tenfold when she looks at Annabelle. “You wouldn’t want to leave me, would you?” Annabelle pleads, voice growing hoarse. Tears glimmer in the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Annabelle,” Thea says, and it feels like all the pieces suddenly snap into place. “You’re not real.”
The view around them is. . . beautiful, Thea thinks. Dream-like. Perfect in every which way. They were sitting on a hill, backs against a tree, in the full-fledged autumn. The hill overlooks a picturesque little town, symmetrical to the last cement block. It’s vaguely unnerving. Something feels wrong. Thea turns back to Annabelle. Something feels bizarre. “Every time I look at you--it’s strange, I feel like I’ve lost you.” “Lost me?” Annabelle laughs melodically--and there. When has Annabelle ever laughed like that? This Annabelle, she’s lovely, and picturesque, and perfect, but when was Annabelle ever like that? Annabelle didn’t have coiffed golden curls, she had frizzy, messy hair and dirt splattered on her jeans. Annabelle didn’t have a melodic laugh like sleigh bells, she had a laugh that was harsh, and stubborn, and sometimes more like a snort than anything else. 4
“April Showers,” Photograph by The Calico Cat
Annabelle’s delicate expression is suddenly replaced with something much more cold and sharp. “How could you say that? How could you say that, in the face of what we’re offering you? This is a utopia, Thea. You would turn your back on it so quickly, just to chase your dreams of reality?” “In reality,” Thea continues, unaffected, “you died. I saw it, Annabelle. I saw that car as it came out of nowhere. And this place,” she gestures around sharply, “this place isn’t a utopia. It’s a prison.” The leaves rustle. “If there’s one thing you ever hated, Annabelle, it was a prison.” The wind picks up. “I won’t exchange my reality for dreams, no matter how perfect those dreams may look.” The gale is blowing harder now, shaking the branches. “Good bye, Annabelle.” The façade and the world around them cracks.
“Horizons,” Photograph by Anonymous
Conformity
By: Alex Choi The sky rendered a dull blue on the cool September morning. The year was 2224, and equality in thinking had finally been achieved. All persons born are born in laboratories owned by the government. Everyone is genetically modified to think the same and to think equally. However, in order to achieve this, creative thinking and imagination had been abolished. I am a 13 year old who is starting the 7th grade. I do not possess any greater intellect than any of my peers, and they do not possess any greater intellect than me. We all think the same. As the sun began to peak over the horizon and small rays of light began to shower upon the community, I headed towards the hyper bus which sped me to school. As I looked out the window, the buildings were all square and identical to the next one and to the last. All of them were windowless. Windows have been obsolete since the invention of the “SkyView”. Skyview is an invention made in around 2052 which creates realistic, tangible images that act as your windows. I had finally arrived at school. Everyone had the same straight, serious face as they headed towards their classes. I walked uniformly with other peers as I marched to my math class. Teachers had been abolished too because it created too much “innovative thinking”. Instead of a teacher, a teacher bot instructed and addressed the class. During class, as students scribbled down their notes, I was beginning to zone out. My head began to spin. My breathing and heart rate was increasing. My throat was feeling hoarse and parched. The glands on my hands began perspiring. I excused myself and zoomed to the bathroom. I checked myself in the mirror and began washing my face. Suddenly, thoughts began pouring into my head never before. The pupils of my eyes dilated, and I began questioning why was our creativity and imagination missing from us? Why was it missing? Why was it gone? Why was it taken? Why was it stolen? I finally realized that I had retained back my creativity, but I returned to class and kept the thought to myself, revealing to no one. The rest of the day I began quietly contemplating to myself about the realization that had struck upon me. That night as I was consuming my dinner, the police bots knocked down my door and bellowed that I shall be under the custody of the police force and my rights will be stripped away from me as I am detained. 5
A Fever Dream By Slightly Gray
Something odd happened to me just the other day. I had a daydream that I was almost unable to wake up from. It was not the type of reverie where one feels to be floating with the one they love, but instead something much more fierce. My head began to throb, a violent war-like drum pounding against my ear as I began to feel dizzy and lightheaded. It called me into the depths commandingly and I began to sink in my chair. I descended into the inferno. The landscape was hellish and vast, a wasteland desolate but for the white-hot fires which broiled me. The floor was cracked and crusted, charred black and filled with soot. Feverish, I began to run, nearly flying in a frenzied search for an exit. What you seek is back the way you came. A wooden sign protruded from the ground. Clinging to my last shred of sanity, I thought through the sign’s warning. There was nothing back the way I came but the blaze. With a swift kick, I split the sign in two, unable to even jostle the ground it was stuck in. “Worthless being, how dare you defy me,” cried a strident voice from the expanse. It was not unfamiliar. When I tried to recollect the man associated with such a terrible
voice, I thought of a face, but one seemingly too young and unfamiliar to possibly speak in such a malevolent tone. “I am inexorable,” said the dark figure which I had recognized, now standing in front of me. He was the voice. A tall young man with rather overgrown hair. He seemed at home in our volcanic environment. There was an undeniable malevolence about him, standing comfortably with his hands behind his back. “Fear me, pitiful creature,” spat the villain derisively. “We know each other all too well.” “Who are you,” I choked in the dust. He smiled and laughed at my pain. “I’m simply a voice. I exist to remind you you’re nothing. But I must admit, your pain brings me great joy.” A voice, nothing but a voice. My heart rate slowed and everything around began to fade into black. He screamed but I didn’t care, I had become numb to it all. A doorway of light appeared in the now dark ashen room, already beginning to frost. I walked out of it. I jerked awake from my dream. In front of me was a mirror: the young man was me.
Quarantined By Luna
The world has suddenly become much smaller. My entire universe has become confined to the four walls of my bedroom. Maybe if I put some new drawings up on the walls it’ll look less dull. Or I could rearrange my furniture. Perhaps then it’ll feel like I’m visiting somewhere new. Every day is spent glued to my only window outside my four walls. With every text, message, and snap, I get a glimpse of another person’s life. Are they stuck like I am? Or are they finding ways to be happy at a time like this? Perhaps I should do the same; it would make everything much more bearable.
6
“Sleepless Nights,” Illustration by DIO
Sometimes, I’m grateful for the fact I’m quarantined. Outside my four walls, it seems like its all falling apart. Maybe, this is a safe cocoon.
Time Spent
By Blue Serendipity
crying and Ty gets in trouble. In both scenarios they make a ridiculous amount of noise.
My family has been a tad bit paranoid with the whole coronavirus situation. Me and my two younger siblings have been put under lockdown in our house and aren’t allowed to go outside for even a walk. The three of us were not happy but no matter what we said or did we couldn’t change our parents’ minds. Therefore, we’ve had to find different ways to keep ourselves busy and entertained at home.
The three of us together result in lost of ganging up on each other in teasing arguments, sneaking behind our parents to get ice cream, and pulling off elaborate schemes to sneak each other out of the house for a short walk around the neighborhood. We watch movies together in the basement and eat an unhealthy amount of popcorn. We argue over who’s turn it is to wash the dishes. We push each other off the piano bench in order to play whatever song we want to play even though one of us is already playing.
The three of us are quite different and there’s a large age gap between me and my youngest sister. I’m 16, my little sister (we’ll call her Ty) is 15, and my youngest sister (let’s call her Do) is 7. Like I said, a large age gap. We don’t tend to spend a lot of time all together because of this. That of course, doesn’t mean we don’t like to gather in one of our rooms and play games together. However we usually like to just do our own things.
Quarantine hasn’t been the easiest thing to deal with. It’s caused lots of unhappy moments, and lots of intense arguments with our parents. But it has given me and my siblings more time to spend together, and we have definitely bonded over defying our parents’ unreasonable rules. Although I may be procrastinating on more important things I have to do, I think the time I’ve spent with my siblings -- whether we’re arguing or scheming -- is time well spent.
I love going to sleep super late and then waking up super early. It seems a bit strange, especially since most people tend to be just a night or morning person. This means I have a lot of time to occupy every day. Sometimes I like to bake random things all day and take over the kitchen just to annoy my mom. Sometimes I reread books and serieses that I had read when I was in elementary or middle school for nostalgia. Sometimes I facetime and text people all day. Sometimes, when I’m feeling really bored or stressed, I clean my entire room and make sure everything’s organized. Maybe I’m weird, but I actually enjoy cleaning and doing chores.
“Purple Petals,” Photograph by The Cold Hearted Queen
Ty, on the other hand, cleans her room every other blue moon. Clutter builds up around her and whenever I comment on the hoarded jars and tins she waves it off, saying that she would take care of it later. She spends her days playing videogames with her online friends and talking to people on Discord. Every now and then I hear her singing or her swivel chair rolling across the hardwood flooring of her room. Occasionally she’ll come into my room and ask me to buy her another hoodie to add to her endless collection. I stare at the $60 price tag incredulously. Now, Do doesn’t have her own room. She shares a room with my grandma. During the day she likes to draw and paint in the living room, play games on my dad’s iPad, read, and play pretend with her stuffed animals. Every once in a while she’ll barge into my room and ask if she can play minecraft on my phone. Other times, she’ll go into Ty’s room and ask if she can play videogames with her. Do and Ty spending time together can go two ways. Either they get along marvelously and play games all day, or Do starts
7
A Bird’s Nest By Anonymous
A low buzzing hum was a comforting constant in the small dim workshop. The entrance to the place had a heavy sliding steel door which led to damp concrete steps. Large brown pipes ran across the ceiling in a dark industrial labyrinth. From them, hung four little fluorescent light bulbs on thin black wires that bathed the room in a golden glow. A small furnace was built into the wall on the other side of the room yet the air was still cool and at times chilly. It smelled strongly of gasoline and smoke but the girl sitting at the rusting table didn’t seem to mind. Thin nimble fingers fitted two gears into an opened clock before closing the bronze hatch. She wiped her greasy hands on the front of her brown dress before picking the clock up and placing it upright on a wooden shelf where it would sit with an assortment of different items the girl had fixed up. As she positioned the clock the way she wanted it, she heard the heavy steel door sliding open. The girl turned to see a man in a dark velvet maroon tailcoat taking off his black top hat. From his nearly styled black hair to the black cravat tied around his neck and the shiny brass buttons decorating his tailcoat, she could tell he had money and power. He looked to be in his mid-30s and his eyes scanned the room with an unreadable expression on his face. Aiden Hanes examined the workshop in disbelief and disgust. This was the place his friends had so highly recommended? He supposed the state of the place might not reflect the quality of work, but The Sparrow must’ve known how unappealing the workshop looked? Not only that, but the person in question was a child. No, Aiden thought, perhaps this wasn’t The Sparrow but instead an apprentice of some type. He walked down the concrete steps and carefully avoided stepping in the water pooling on the second-tolast step with his newly shined black boots. “Welcome to my workshop,” said the girl. She walked back to her table but didn’t sit down. “How may I help you?” “You’re The Sparrow?” Aiden asked doubtfully. His friends must’ve been mistaken. Or they were playing a joke on him. He considered turning around and leaving but knew he shouldn’t judge someone so quickly. Perhaps she really was as talented as his friends had said. The girl smiled and nodded. She recognized the look of apprehension on his face. It was the same one she received with every new client. “I fix items and I sell my own inventions. All at a price of course,” she said cheerfully. The Sparrow stretched her arm to the side and gestured toward the shelf she had just placed the clock on. “If you’d like to examine the quality of my work, please go ahead and do so.” Aiden walked over to the shelf and gazed at all the little gadgets and devices she had on display. They ranged from 8
clocks and pocket watches, to projectiles and guns, to lumps of metal and wire that he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it’s purpose was. While her work wasn’t up to the standards he expected from those that worked in the workshop at the place of his employment, she was still incredibly skilled. Every piece was put in place carefully with very few to no flaws. Everything looked like it was handled with the utmost care and with a bit more scrutinization, Aiden decided she would do. “I need a pistol made within two day’s time. Would that be possible?” “Of course,” said the girl. “I will warn you however, I do not supply murderers with weapons.” Aiden stiffened and narrowed his eyes at her. “I am not a murderer,” he said slowly. She shrugged and a pleasant smile slid onto her face. “I’ll need some identification first,” she said holding out her hand. “I was told you didn’t take records of your clients,” said Aiden. The whole point of searching for The Sparrow was because he didn’t want his purchase recorded. “I don’t. I have a very good memory, and if I spot your name in the papers one day, I’d like to read about what my work has been used for,” said the girl. She raised a single eyebrow questioningly. “If you’re not a murderer, then you should have no qualms with showing me your identification.” Aiden hesitended before reluctantly reaching into the
“Magic!” Illustration by Cupid
inner pocket of his tailcoat and taking out a thin golden medallion. He clenched his fingers around it tightly before dropping it into her open palm. The girl examined it with an impressed expression. “Ah, you’re a military captain?” mused the girl. She peered at him before laughing. “Oh you really aren’t a murderer. Yet.” “The pistol is for my personal safety. There’s nothing wrong with that,” said Aiden pursing his lips. She gave him his medallion back and he quickly tucked it back into his pocket. The girl leaned down and picked a blank roll of paper off the floor and unrolled it on the table. Using two unused scraps of metal, she weighed down the sides so it wouldn’t roll back up. “The army has weaponsmiths, do they not, Mr. Hanes? Sorry, Captain Hanes,” corrected the girl after a brief pause. She took a pencil and began sketching out a simple pistol design. “You’re here because you don’t want this pistol to be able to be traced back to you. That means the purpose of this pistol isn’t entirely legal.” “My business is entirely legal,” replied Aiden defensively. “I’ll make the pistol, but once the deed is done, you’ll no longer be allowed in my shop again,” she warned. He was silent for a moment before nodding stiffly. They discussed the design, material, and pricing for a while before Aiden put his top hat back on his head and left the workshop. The two days’ wait was difficult to bear; Aiden became paranoid of every sound that approached his home and of every
The Clockmaker By Verovyva Hearts are not clocks How do you mend the pieces Of a broken heart
“Goggles” Illustration by Jennifer Kaechele
higher ranking officer that came near him. He got little sleep both nights and took to sitting near the front door with his army rifle just in case. In the end, nothing happened. The Sparrow had kept silent. When the heavy steel door slid open once again, the girl turned around and smiled. Captain Aiden Hanes was dressed from head to toe in coal black. His face was pale, and dark circles had appeared underneath his eyes. He looked as if he was walking to his death. “Is it done?” Aiden asked urgently. He wanted this over with. The girl walked over to the shelf and gently took the bronze pistol off it’s display stand. Aiden felt relief rush through him as the cold metal was placed into his hands. It was almost over. “Who’re you going to use that on?” she asked curiously. Aiden frowned and tucked the pistol in the inside of his coat. “I’m not a murderer,” he said as he paid her. A smile spread across her face as if she already knew who his target was. “That’s alright,” said The Sparrow, “I’ll find out from the papers soon enough.” The girl walked back to her table and Aiden didn’t hesitate to leave. It was almost over. When she spoke again, he paused and looked over his shoulder. “This’ll start a war you know,” she said. The Sparrow didn’t seem all too concerned about a war breaking out; she was more focused on fiddling with a clump of metal and wire. “Good day, Captain Hanes, and good luck.”
What Is Darkness? By S.B.
Life can be a sordid thing you see, Pain from those stings, thorns and knives. Poison, flu, screams, sprains now numb. Frozen springs, dead flowers. You dream of flight away. When the darkness comes and it rains. Rain is quite harmless though, yet we stay inside, We could meditate out there. Many things are dark like clouds, Not as bad as they may seem to be. 9
The Nuisance of Keeping a Butterfly
weak and thin. “You can curse me and spite me, but the moment you lose me you lose everything.” It gave a feeble attempt to fly but barely managed to stand on the floor of the cage. “You will be back,” it predicted, “and when you do I will help you again.”
There was a room in the corner of my house filled with the most useless of things that I couldn’t throw away. My grandmother’s vanity. A broken heirloom. A pair of unworn ugly shoes gifted by a long-time friend. A cage that contained a useless butterfly.
I tossed it in the corner where that damned butterfly belonged and my world returned back to normal. I went about my day, and once a while stopped to scoff in the direction of the room where the cursed butterfly laid.
By The Wine Merchant
Oh god did I hate that butterfly. Twice, I came across it when I cleaned out ever-growing clutter in the room. It was poised on the branch ever so breathlessly, beckoning me to approach it. The shimmering white wings trembled ever so slightly as I approached, and when I was only a few feet away from it, it spoke. “Will you listen to my advice?” it asked almost timidly. I simply nodded, too amazed and curious to speak. The butterfly fluttered its wings in gratitude and started to say the most wonderful things. For a moment, I was entranced by its words. It was hard to believe that such a small creature could dream of such a large ethereal dream. The days rolled by and I found myself nestled in an armchair, listening and believing the endless amount of stories the beautiful butterfly told.
Suddenly, without warning a dark force entered the world. Engulfed in flames were the homes of the innocent and pure alike, and burned were the futures we had painstakingly built. Then, followed was a haze of darkness that shrouded the world. I was scared. I could not speak. I could not see. I was trapped in a cage and forced to listen to the screams of pain coming from the outside. It was torture. I clawed my way from room to room of my house, desperate to find a light or a shadow. Anything to show me that I wasn’t alone. After so many hours of crawling and crying, I found myself in a corner trying to force the darkness away as it suffocated me. With the last bit of voice in me, I cried for help. “Please,” I whispered my voice hoarse, “please help me. I am lost and I cannot find my way out. Please.”
That was my first mistake. I blindly believed in the stories it told me, even though I knew it wasn’t real. I blindly tried to soar in the air as it told me I could. I blindly tried to swim in a sea that was begged for me to drown. Then one day, I confronted its lies. The thunder roared ominously in the sky as I stormed into the room where the butterfly resided. Its dove-white wings drooped and lacked luster as it drooped low. It had taken place in the corner of the cage, taking refuge in the shadow of the cruel copper bars. “You lied to me,” I hissed, my fists trembling. “Do you know the amount of pain I suffered from listening to your ridiculous stories?” The butterfly didn’t move or reply, choosing instead to lay still. I scoffed, “now you choose to lie there like the pathetic fool you are.” I grabbed the handle of the cage, jolting it hard, and angrily spoke through the bars. “You are nothing but a fraud and a useless liar. I should leave you to die.” 10
“But you won’t,” the butterfly suddenly replied, its voice
“Fierce Fight,” Illustration by DIO
“I can help you.” At first, it was simply a familiar voice that spoke past all those shrouds, and I whirled my head around desperately to find it. Then, a small spark shined faintly in the distance, and relief flooded me as I crawled towards it. As it grew bigger and bigger, I realized what it was; it was the glowing wings of the butterfly I had cast away so long before. I hastily wiped away my tears and furrowed my brows. “How can I see you?” I asked, once again in awe by the little butterfly. The butterfly all but fluttered fondly, “It is what I am made of. I am here to help you, but you first have to let me out of my cage,” it promised. I hesitated, but knew that these beacon-like wings were my only hope out of the black hole, I fumbled with the latch and the door opened. The butterfly tumbled out, and in an instant, the light around began to spread out until the entire room that it fluttered in was bathed in a warm golden light. As I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of the warmth on my skin, the butterfly spoke gently to me in the distance. “Before we continue, you must know that you will face the adversaries yourself,” it warned, “But I will be there to light your way to your destination.” “That’s all I need,” I murmured, watching it beat its wings. Yet, something urged me to ask one more thing. I stared it at its lithe glowing body in awe and wondered, “Who are you.” I could hear the smile in its voice as it edged closer to me. “I am Hope, and you have come a long way since knowing me. Now come, let us finish your journey.” So side by side, Hope and I went, fighting and lighting the path of my future ahead.
Online Learning By Anonymous
One of the biggest benefits of online learning has got to be the amount of sleep I’ve been getting. I can go to sleep and wake up whenever I want without having to worry about missing first period. I don’t even have to do schoolwork every day! Of course, this probably doesn’t apply to everyone since some people have scheduled ZOOM meetings and all, but for me it’s been pretty nice. Some of my classes has become more challenging however, as it’s pretty difficult to stay on top of English and Physics when it isn’t very clear what we’re learning. I think the only class that has become significantly easier for me as been math. My teachers post lesson videos on Google Classroom every week and give us until a certain date to learn the material and complete the assignments. Since the lessons are all videos, I’m able to learn on my own pace and go back if I need to. That’s one thing that I hope can continue once we’re able to go back to school in person. It feels like I’ve got much less to do now as well. There’s a lot less projects to do and everything’s much more straightforwards. I enjoy having a whole week to learn a certain topic on my own pace, and I find that I understand what we’ll be learning throughout the month much easier too. I do wish I could see my friends and interact with people everday though. That’s honestly what made going to school everyday so bearable for me. With some friends we’re able to continue to talk every single day as if we were in person, but with others we’ve begun to drift without having classes to bring us together. I even miss the people I wasn’t even good friends with, like the kids I would sit next to and occassionally talk to in my classes.
None of that can be helped though, we’re all socially distancing for a reason. Hopefully if everyone can follow social distancing guidlines we’ll all be back in school once the next school year comes around. Hopefully we’ll still be able to have football games and school dances, although that does seem fairly unlikely. Well, until then, I’m just going to enjoy being able to bring my school work outside and screwing up my sleep schedule beyond repair. “Snow White,” Photograph by Blue Serendipity
11
The Competition Part 6: The Final Days
“Symmetry,” Illustraion by Verovyva
By The Midnight Raven Archer, 3
“Because I have a secret,” I whispered, my eyes blurring against the hazy light. I noticed how Will shifted slightly before replying quietly. “You can tell me, but you don’t have to if you don’t want. But if you do, you can trust me.” My breathing slowed and my head began to churn with the dilemma I faced. I could tell him, part of me slightly even wanted to, but I had been keeping this secret for six years now and it was for the exact reason that made me hesitate now. How people would react. But those six years weighed heavy and they were starting to crush me down into the dirt of the ground, and I needed to get back up again. I let this secret dominate my life, let it morph me into such a different person that sometimes I couldn’t even recognize myself. “It has to do with my scar. How I got it.” I brought my hand up to the jagged line that cut from the bottom left of my forehead to the edge of my left eyebrow and I noticed how Will grazed the still-healing scar he had in the same place. “I was thirteen and it was a night that seemed like any other. One of my closest friends throughout when I was younger was a boy, Kylen. We had been friends for a while and one night, we did what we often did when I came over to his house. There was an alley next to his apartment building and we would just go there and it always seemed so spacious and quiet. He was a 2 and had a pretty big family so something like that was rare to find. Anyways, on that night, we were in the alley, just talking and I don’t know, everything that night, Kylen too, just seemed so perfect.” I paused for a moment and looked up at Will. When he caught my eye, he gave me a small smile, a tiny sign to show me that it was okay. Everything was okay. I was okay. “Um...well, I just got so overwhelmed with that feeling of perfectness and I…um… kissed him.” My voice faltered on those words and I saw as slight surprise broke on Will’s face. I couldn’t bear to face him, so I turned my gaze down to the fabric of the blanket below me. “It only was a few seconds but those seconds felt like they went on forever and I was so confused, but it was a happily unaware feeling. Then, he pushed me. As hard as he could, Kylen pushed me away from him and I fell. The buildings around us were brick and fairly old and often in the alley, there would be bricks that had dislodged from the wall. When I fell, my head hit against the sharp edge of one of these bricks and it cut my forehead pretty deeply.” “ I just remember a ringing that consumed my whole
12
head and I looked up and saw Kylen standing above me, and I expected him to help me or at least show some sort of emotion, but his face. His face was so cold, so empty. And he left. He left me in that alley, bleeding and so, so confused. The cut never healed, like some sick reminder of that night.” I exhaled softly and brought my eyes up to glance at Will. His shoulders rose and fell with his breaths and his face seemed to reflect the pace at which his mind was moving. “Kylen and I hardly ever spoke after that and I just know that if I were to win “The Competition” he would find a way to bring this to light. Because he has his struggles too and for him and his family, he would do anything to become a 5. So that’s why I don’t want to win and why I’ve tried so hard this entire time to lose.” For the first time since I began, Will asked quietly, “Then was the crash purposeful?” I inhaled sharply and quickly replied, “If you’re asking if I meant to hit you, then no! Not at all! I would never do something like that to you. But, if you’re asking if I meant to crash my own craft, then yes. So I could lose the race. It was a horrible idea and I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t try anything like that again, and that I would do anything I could to make sure that you got a fighting chance. But Will, I can’t win. If I win, this will come out one way or the other.” “Maybe there’s a chance it won’t, maybe Kylen won’t say anything!” Will said, a tinge of hope to his tone. “But even if he doesn’t, someone will find out,” I said softly. “I have been holding on to this for six years and I
don’t think I can just keep this up forever. And if anyone found out if I was a 5, everything would be ruined, not just for me, my family too. The 5’s, everyone, they would...do something to try to change me. For all our lives, we are not even taught what love is supposed to be, we are just supposed to catch on and accept what everyone already does. But what if that’s not the only option? What if the precedents that others have set aren’t the only option? What if I’m not just a fluke?” “I’ve been spending six years thinking the fact that I could see myself loving anyone, not just girls, was some immoral and broken thing. But what if it’s not? What if there are other people and they just don’t realize that there are other options for them? I can’t just keep concealing a part of me. I don’t think I’m ready to showcase it, but I can’t just live in this constant fear forever.” When my flow of words finally stopped, I glanced at Will. He seemed to be in a deep thought that was far from breaking. “Will, I know this is a lot and I’m so sorry for throwing this all at you. But I hope you understand at least where I’m coming from.” I whispered. Will finally flicked his eyes to meet mine and in them, I saw confusion but I also saw something else, a quick glimmer of indecipherable emotion. “I understand, Archer, and I have so much respect for ev-
“Fox,” Illustration by Verovyva
erything you said. I didn’t know it was an option, I bet a lot of people don’t. It changes a lot, for me, and I bet it could change other people too. If we didn’t live like we did, with the numbers and the structure, I wouldn’t how it would have been different. Maybe it would be better.” He said, his voice slightly hoarse. Will pulled me into a quick hug and when he and I both pulled away, I replied, “I wonder that too, Will. I wonder that too.” Larkin, 2 The final challenge was today. The last deciding factor of who would move on to the final three. I was terrified, all that morning from the second I woke up I was filled with the fear that I would be sent home after all of this, after getting so close. Alina, Archer, Will and I all filed into the bright room that morning and were met with the sound of the voice. “Today is your last challenge. All of you will leave the room and come back one by one and make a speech about why you are deserving of being made a 5. People will be watching live and will vote as the challenge goes on. By the time the last speech is made, we will know who will be the final three. Everyone please go outside and wait for your name to be called.” The four of us trudged inside and I waited as Will was called first, then Alina, then Archer, and finally me. I walked out into the brightness and stood in the center, the began. The words that had been so long brimming inside of me, I was finally able to speak. I told the light, and the people I could not see about Laney, Lena, Levi, and my mother. About the cramped apartment where we didn’t have enough space for even my mother to have a bed. I told them about how Levi and I had become more and more quiet and guarded over the years, because we not only had to be role models for our younger siblings, but we also had to be strong for our mother. My eyes brimmed as I spoke of how Levi was not only my brother, but the person who truly understood me most in the world, and that my win would be for my whole family but it would also give him the chance to enjoy the last few years of childhood without the worries I had always carried. My words filled the air at a constant speed until I finally ended my speech with a small thanks. I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed as the other three contestants walked into the room. My heart beat within my chest, it seemed so loud that I truly wondered if the others could hear it too. Next to me, I felt Will nudge my hand with his and I glanced up to him giving me a bright grin. I peeked past him and saw him clutching Archer’s hand and Archer holding Alina’s. I grasped on to Will’s hand with a slight smile of my own and closed my eyes. From the quiet, the voice broke out. “The three competitors moving on to the finals of ‘The Competition’ are…” I exhaled sharply and squeezed my 13
eyes shut even tighter. Please, please, please, I echoed over and over again in my mind. “In first place with the most votes, Will.” I felt Will drop my hand and I glanced to see the shock on his face. “Thank you, thank you.” He whispered, his eyes glistening with the light. “In second, we have Alina.” I blinked and looked towards Alina to see her let go of Archer’s hand, a tear dripping down her cheek and she addressed the viewers with a thank you full of heart. It was Archer and I left. A 3 and a 2. My
heartbeat quickened to even faster than it already was. I felt Will squeeze my hand lightly and I gave him as much of a smile as I could manage. I looked forwards towards the light, too afraid to even keep my eyes shut. Please, please, please. “And the final person moving on, with the third most votes…” The voice paused. Everything I worked for, it couldn’t end now. For my family, for them, not me, I prayed silently that it would be me. Please, please, please, “Archer.”
Coronavirus Haiku By Anonymous Wear a proper mask, Remember to wash your hands, And socially distance
“Apocolyptic Angels,” Manga by Aya Hatashima (Read from Right to Left) 14
I’m Not Hungry But... By Anonymous
Quarantined at home, I feel bored out of my mind. Maybe I should eat.
Cyan Skies: The Council (1) By Blue Serendipity Arlo listened intently as Miles animatedly retold a story about a botched supply run during dinner. They had been transporting clothes and medicine from the main base to a different Rebellion base to the east. When they reached the edge of a forest, they were ambushed by govie soldiers. “Let’s not talk about brutally killing Burray soldiers while we’re eating?” suggested a man with a disgusted grimace. He was sitting beside Calisto with some of the other members of the Education department. “Let him tell it, their squadron doesn’t have any other stories to tell,” said Oliver, smirking as he sat down at their table across from Arlo.
combination of soldiers and teachers. There weren’t many people in Finance, and many of them liked to group together at their own table. With a quick glance around the room, he could tell that there were by far more soldiers than the other two sectors combined. Every once in a while Arlo would notice someone looking at him curiously and talking to the people around them. Luckily no one came up to question him about why he was there. “Hey, looks like Valleé’s here to get you,” said James jerking his head towards the doors. When Arlo turned his head in that direction, he quickly made eye-contact with the Doctor. She beckoned him over and Arlo looked down at the nearly finished tray of food before him. “I got it,” said Miles, waving him off with a friendly grin. “You’d better go, the Council awaits you.”
“We have more stories than you do,” said Gayle, Arlo thanked him before his face flushing red. “We’re walking over to Valleé. She out there way more than was holding a small stack you are.” of notebooks and files in her arms. Her fingers tapped “Yeah but when I’m out them impatiently and she there I’m fighting Burrey began walking out the door soldiers. You rarely see any the moment Arlo reached action.” her. “Well that would be a good thing wouldn’t it?” said the same man from before. “Less run-ins with soldiers means more supplies arriving. I’d say they’re doing a good job.” Gayle and Miles looked at Oliver with a smug smirk. Their table was a strange
“How’ve you been settling in, Mr. Dunn?” Valleé asked politely. “I’ve been alright,” said Arlo with slight uncertainty. “Where are we going? Are you gonna tell me why the govies are after me? Why I’m valuable?”
“Rainy Days,” Photograph by Verovyva
“I’m bringing you to see the Council. We’ll answer your questions when we get there.” When they reached the Council Complex, Arlo noticed it was less busy than it was earlier due to three out of seven sectors eating dinner. Making their way across the large octagonal room, they entered the Council Court. It was a long white hallway lit up by a strip of lights streaking down the center of the ceiling. On each side of the hall were dark brown doors evenly spaced from each other. At the end of the hall, was a gray door. Potted plants were added to each side of the doors, presumably to make the hall seem less cold and lifeless. “The Council was formed by the head of the Rebellion, Shira Jameston,” said
Valleé as they walked down the hall. “Because our movement has grown so much in size she needed a group of people specialized in different sectors to aid her in decision-making.” “And you’re part of the Council?” Arlo asked, searching for confirmation. A door opened behind them and he looked over his shoulder to see a group of people quietly leaving one of the rooms and heading to the exit. At the very end of the group were two soldiers escorting a man with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Yes. I’m the head of Science and Technology,” she said. They reached the gray door and she touched Continued on Next Page
15
a small black square on the wall beside it. The door slid open. “After you.” Leaving in the middle of the night wasn’t ideal. It would be freezing and too dark to see without some type of light. They didn’t have any other option however, as they needed to leave while Charlie, June, and Harley were still asleep. Unfortunately Sarah and Eddie were asleep as well. Frida stood in the middle of the boxcar, uncertainty dancing across her face. She still didn’t agree with leaving the kids, but she knew Arlo and Fred were right. “I don’t like this,” voiced Vinnie as they all stared at Sarah, Eddie, and the kids. “There’s got to be something we can do for them.” “Come on, you’ve seen this so many times,” sighed Fred wearily. “There’s nothing we can do for them. Not anymore.” Vinnie ran a hand through his hair and began pacing in small circles. They had seen children suffering and hanging on to life by a thread in other scavanger camps before. He knew they couldn’t save them, but he didn’t want to accept that reality. “Somebody wake them,” said Arlo, pulling out a flashlight from his pockets. Sarah had traded two cans of food for it. They didn’t know how long it’s battery would last, but they were hoping it’d last long enough for them to find somewhere 16
safe to rest. “We’ve got to get going.” “You do it then,” mumbled Jackie unhappily. Arlo frowned. He didn’t really want to be the one to wake them up, but someone had to do it. With a few light kicks to the leg, Eddie groggily woke up. Behind Arlo, Fred gestured for him to be quiet. “What’s going on?” he asked, noticing them all standing around in the boxcar. Arlo ignored his question and did the same to Sarah. “What?” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes. “We’re leaving,” said Arlo simply. “We can’t bring them with us.” “What?” hissed Eddie.
and betrayal crept onto Eddie’s face and he shook his head. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “Eddie, don’t be mad. You won’t survive if you stay here with them,” said Fred staring at him incredulously. “You don’t know that for sure. I’ll find a way,” said Eddie determinedly. Sarah nodded. “I’m staying too.” “You’re both crazy,” said Fred. Arlo pressed his lips together and stared at them. It would be difficult to leave without them as Sarah was their main trader while Eddie helped build shelters and keep watch. And... they
were his friends. Arlo didn’t want to leave them behind. “We’re a family, right? We’re supposed to protect each other,” said Arlo gesturing towards Fred, Jackie, Frida, and Vinnie. “They need someone to protect them as well,” said Sarah. She gently placed a hand on June’s shoulder. “You all can leave,” said Eddie shaking his head. “But me and Sarah are staying. We’re not changing out minds.” Arlo gripped the flashlight tightly and stared at them before turning around. “Come on, lets go.” To Be Continued....
“They’ll die if we leave ‘em.” “They’ll die anyways.” “You don’t know that for sure,” said Sarah angrily. “We can’t stay here and you both know it. June can’t walk and Harley’s too sick to move.” “So we’re just going to leave ‘em here to die?” asked Eddie harshly. He looked at the others. “You all agree with this?” For a moment no one spoke. Frida, Vinnie, and Jackie avoided looking them in the eyes while Fred stood expressionlessly with his hands in his pockets. Hurt
“Eddison Bulb,” Photograph by The Cold Hearted Queen